


Whisper in My Ear

by newnumbertwo



Category: Battlestar Galactica, Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 06:04:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1334779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newnumbertwo/pseuds/newnumbertwo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura adjusts to life on New Caprica, and Tom has another power play in mind...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whisper in My Ear

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Laura_Mayfair](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laura_Mayfair/gifts).



Title: Whisper in My Ear  
Rating:T  
Word Count: ~9100  
Disclaimer: don't own them.  
Characters/Pairing: Laura/Tom, Maya, Tory, Sam, Cally, others  
Summary: Laura adjusts to life on New Caprica, and Tom has another power play in mind...  
A/N: Written for the lovely [](http://laura-mayfair.livejournal.com/profile)[**laura_mayfair**](http://laura-mayfair.livejournal.com/)'s birthday. Posted a bit early. Happy birthday, dear. *huggles*  
A/N2: Much thanks to [](http://lanalucy.livejournal.com/profile)[**lanalucy**](http://lanalucy.livejournal.com/) for the beta. This was a fun project; thanks for being there 'all the way till the end.' *hugs*

Laura had just finished putting the school supplies away when she heard the rustle of the tent, and assuming it was Maya returning after Isis’ nap, she said, “You timed that perfectly, Maya,” without looking up from her desk drawer.

“Not Maya, but I like to think I have impeccable timing,” the voice of Thomas Zarek slithered into her ears. Even without looking at him, she could feel that grin she supposed passed for charming.

“And what can I do for you, Mr. Vice President?” She asked, rising from her desk and turning to him. “I must say, I’m surprised you’d visit a lowly school-teacher.”

He mocked shock at her assertion. “And miss the opportunity to take part in the future of our civilization? Why in the worlds would you think that?”

She hmmed. Education was and always had been her pet project, even during her months as President, to whatever extent had been possible. But she doubted the _esteemed_ Vice President had any real interest in it, which meant he saw it - or perhaps her - as a means to an end. She smirked to let him know she was onto him. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Perhaps you could lend an ear.”

She sat at her desk, already aware this would take a while. She quirked a brow. “An ear? Don’t you have the press eating out of your hands? The Quorum?”

He shook his head and grabbed the chair across from her desk. “May I?” She nodded, and he sat. “It seems I’ll always be reporting to you.”

She rolled her eyes. “A school teacher joke, Mr. Zarek? I have to say, I’m disappointed.” She smirked. “Thought you were more clever than that.”

He chuckled. “Maybe I was holding back. You know, like _The Art of War_ says.”

“But you’re telling me now, so I can never know for sure.” She leaned in slightly. “Besides, I’m not in any position to be your enemy.”

He leaned in, mirroring her posture. “Now, you know that’s not true, Laura. For you,” he gestured around the tent and the planet itself, “this is a minor setback at worst.”

“Not just for me.”

He nodded. “Touche.” He let out a sigh. She was smart enough to know it was as calculated a move as all his others. And she took it with a grain of salt. “I suppose it would delight you to know I’m not entirely pleased with….the situation.”

“Oh, no? That’s too bad.” She affected a frown, knowing he’d see through it. “There’s a reason Gaius Baltar made such a _wonderful_ Vice President. But I guess you haven’t found it yet.”

“I know he’s little more than a puppet, Laura. And he played exactly how you and Adama wanted him to...for a while.” He peered into her eyes. “What happened with the abortion law?”

Laura shook her head. “I don’t know. I assumed that’s when you started pulling his strings.”

He smirked. “No. That was after his declaration. I thought I’d take a shot at you myself before then.”

“Oh, I know all about your _shots_ at me.”

He affected shock and anger. “Hey! I resent that.”

She waved him off. “All right. I’ll pretend for a minute you weren’t behind certain...events. Not sure they would have done you much good anyway.”

He snorted. “Cancer couldn’t kill you, I doubt anything else could.”

“You’re not wrong. Did I ever tell you about my experience with the centurion?”

“Of course not. Not me. I’m Thomas Zarek, remember?”

She laughed. “How could I forget?” Her mirth disappeared from her face. “So, am I to assume you have some gripe with President Baltar?” Her eyes got that twinkle again. “If so, the line begins here.”

“You’re enjoying this too much, Laura. What happened to the kindly politician turned President I once knew?”

She snorted. “Kindly?”

He shrugged. “You could be. Sometimes. Maybe not to me, but you were always great with the Adama kid, the press, children. Even the folks on the _Astral Queen_.”

“Hmm. Was that a compliment from Tom Zarek?”

“I compliment you all the time.” He grinned. “I’ll be the first to admit you’ve got great legs.”

She shook her head. “Not sure that counts.”

He dropped his grin. The serious expression made him seem almost earnest. “Things aren’t going as well as I would have liked.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

He let out a laugh that sounded more like a cough. “What would you be doing? I mean, if you were President?”

She leveled him her best Presidential look, left over from her former office. “If I were President, we wouldn’t even be here.”

“And you were passionate enough about it to rig an election?”

She didn’t even blink. “That was a tabulation error, which Admiral Adama was diligent enough to find and correct.”

“And considering his...leanings, you’re obviously free from all blame.”

She gazed into his eyes. “Naturally.”

“Let’s assume you were President, and we somehow crashed here, or couldn’t jump, or for some other catastrophic reason, we were stuck here. What would you do?”

The irony that he equated Baltar to a catastrophe amused her greatly. Gods, even the man’s campaign manager turned Vice President couldn’t stand him!

She outlined her five-point plan, which she had considered in her spare time. Not that she had thought she would ever get the chance to use it, but just because the people had voted for that frakweasel, didn’t mean she could ever _not_ be their President. She was just out of office for the moment. As Zarek had said, it was a minor setback at worst.

Zarek was impressed. Even he couldn’t school his features _that_ well.

“Feel free to slip those ideas in during the next quorum meeting.” She leaned across the desk and whispered, “Although I think you’d have more luck with Mr. Gaeta.”

He nodded. “But of course.” He cleared his throat. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Roslin. Perhaps we’ll meet again soon. The future of our civilization is very important to this administration, as you know, and you’re a crucial part of that.”

There had to be a reason for his...spiel, so she simply nodded and thanked him. “I’m thrilled to contribute in _any_ way.”

He gave his best politician's smile and headed out of her tent.

She prepared to leave for the day, unsure if she had just made a friend or an enemy.

/////////////////////////////////////////

Tom trekked through the mud and dirt on the way to his live-in office - a glorified tent near _Colonial One_. The fresh air, if it could be called that, had a damp chill. He wished he’d worn his leather jacket instead of his official suit. But he’d always known to dress for the job he wanted, not the one he had.

It seemed former President Laura Roslin was taking the opposite approach, but he had no doubt the woman was lying in wait. Her five-point plan had confirmed it.

It was brilliant, effective, and relatively easy to implement. He’d slip it to Gaeta the next time he visited _Colonial One_ , and then Tom would present it to the Quorum. President Baltar would undoubtedly take credit, but the people would benefit, and that was all that really mattered. To Laura at least. Perhaps to him too.

Tom hadn’t made a mistake. A mistake would signify he hadn’t known what he was getting into, which wasn’t true. He’d known Baltar was a puppet and the conditions of New Caprica wouldn’t be good. He’d made a calculated move to further his agenda. His only error had been in assuming he would be Baltar’s puppeteer.

Had things been better under Laura’s reign? That was questionable. Laura hadn’t been able to provide them with this planet, with the odd atmospheric conditions protecting them from cylon detection. Instead, she had offered a mythical planet that would take years to find. It had been a battle between the present and future, and the present had won. However, Laura’s government had been much more stable, her quorum meetings more productive, and when he - and the others - had spoken, she had listened. She hadn’t always agreed with them, and he knew she’d done things independently from quorum approval. But when she had made decisions, he’d known it was _her_ making them, not some unseen master. Not even her _visions_ had interfered with her mind’s functioning or her political machinations.

Baltar, on the other hand, reminded Tom of one of those child kings of old, inbred and insane. He’d taken the power of the office of President of the Twelve Colonies mostly to hurt Laura, and now that he had it, he had no idea what to do with it. Worse, he had no desire to learn or grow into the position.

In the meantime, life on New Caprica was not shaping up the way Tom had hoped. He wasn’t a naive man, and he certainly hadn’t any illusions that this Colonial government was any better than the one he’d fought against. He was a man who had desired change and equality among the Colonies. He had tried peaceful means: sit-ins, letter-writing campaigns, marches. When none of that had worked, he’d blown up a government building. He had been sorry to kill so many, but they had been working for a corrupt government that was in the way of revolution. That hadn’t worked either, but it had made him a household name throughout the Colonies, and sales of his book, his manifesto, had skyrocketed - even golden boy Lee Adama had read it. He’d had a fervent hope that those folks would pick up some of his message and effect change that way.

But all known copies of his book had been destroyed, along with everything else, during the attacks. He certainly wouldn’t expect to find it on Adama’s bookshelf - not that he’d ever be invited into the Admiral’s quarters. And books anywhere else in the fleet were few and far between - and mostly the cubit store variety. That book could no longer deliver a message, and even if it could, most of what it could say would be irrelevant.

However, the attacks and the benevolent dictator Laura Roslin had given him a beautiful opportunity. According to Commander Adama, who had been known as Captain Apollo at the time, Laura had absolutely refused to see the prisoners aboard the _Astral Queen_ harmed in any way, even going as far as to threaten the captain she would have Adama withhold supplies and protection if she had caught wind of any mistreatment of _Astral Queen_ ’s passengers. It had been among her earliest decisions as President, and while it didn’t impress him as much as it had Captain Apollo - the young pup had been completely enamored with her in general - he had recognized Laura as much more of a humanitarian than her predecessors, and that was something he’d been able to use. She had given him the means for his freedom, which had enabled him to rise above his former status.

The people of the fleet had been tired, scared, hungry. They had no longer cared about Thomas Zarek, the terrorist. Not when Tom had been offering them manpower and other assistance. Those good deeds had been his ticket to the political realm, where he decided the only way to effect change was from the inside out. He wouldn’t dismantle the government: He would _be_ the government.

As he walked, some of his constituents stopped him to shake hands. Others waved. Baltar had been the man they voted for, but it wasn’t his face they’d seen since landing. President-Elect Gaius Baltar rarely left his office, as he had been far too busy redecorating. Tom had never understood Laura’s obsession with numbers, but he greatly preferred her whiteboard to Baltar’s portrait. And Laura’s bed had been little better than a cot, which couldn’t have helped with her aches and pains when she had been ill, but she had never sought to replace it. Baltar had found the largest bed possible within his first week in office. Tom supposed Baltar needed the extra space for his...secretaries. Tom may have had less power than Felix Gaeta, but he was the one the people came to. His was the hand they shook.

Of course, the folks from _Galactica_ refused to pay him such accord. They mostly sought out Laura Roslin, who still had more power than she would ever acknowledge. Her students, their parents, the many people who had voted for her - they all saw her as their rightful President. Many of them continued using her former title.

Yes, Gaius Baltar should be afraid, very very afraid. The woman, even as a kindly school teacher, was not to be messed with. Not by cancer, the brute Bill Adama, the cylons or their bullets - assuming that was what she had alluded to earlier. She would be President again sooner or later - his cubits were on sooner. Definitely sooner if he helped her.

He’d gotten as far as he could with Baltar. And he should be happy: He had more power than he’d ever had. But he still couldn’t do what he wanted. He couldn’t change the system because Baltar refused to move past the status quo. He smiled, genuinely happy for the first time since landing on New Caprica. Laura Roslin’s unfailingly magnanimous nature was going to help him supplant Baltar. Even if it were she wielding the power afterward, he could live with that.

He stepped inside his tent, removed his suit jacket and picked up his leather one. It warmed him instantly. He turned on his heating stove and sat at his desk. Let the games begin.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Briefcase in hand, Laura started for home. She’d had to acquire boots like she’d worn on Kobol to trek through this _planet’s_ terrain, but at least they were more comfortable than her pumps. The outfits as well.

As she walked, she noticed Cally along the path. The young woman was showing more than the last time she’d seen her. Cally looked...happy. Laura was loath to credit Baltar for that; Bill and Tyrol were the ones responsible. Cally smiled and approached. “Madame President.”

Laura smiled and let out a little laugh. “Just Laura, now, Cally. You look well. How are you?”

She fidgeted slightly. “Fine, Ma - Ms. Roslin.”

Laura tilted her head to the side. Ms. Roslin was acceptable from those uncomfortable using her given name, she decided. “Good. And Galen?”

Cally laughed. “Fed up with this frakkin’ government. It’s keeping him busy. Driving him.”

Laura nodded. “He’s always been a fine leader. I wish him well.”

She hoped Cally would understand the underlying message: If Galen needed her support, he’d have it. He was someone the people could trust, and he’d give Baltar a run for his cubits.

“I should get home. Start dinner. By the way, the market’s closing early today.” Cally rolled her eyes. “Something about a shortage.”

“Why am I not surprised? Thanks. I’ll head over there now.”

Cally continued toward her tent in the _city_. It reminded Laura of the Hoovervilles throughout the Colonies during the dark times. She shook her head. It seemed they were doomed to repeat the past. Gods, it was written in their Scrolls.

It wasn’t that she wanted this place to flourish in Baltar’s image of a “better tomorrow.” In truth, she wasn’t sure what she wanted. Her conviction that New Caprica - and Baltar’s Presidency - would lead to disaster hadn’t wavered. If anything, it was stronger after living planetside for the last few months. However, she was a realist and knew it would take a lot - probably a cylon invasion - to make the people willingly leave this planet, return to the ships, and continue on the quest for Earth. Her conviction had been strong enough for her to attempt rigging an election but not enough to go through with it when pressed. That had been the moment she could have changed the fate of humanity.

That moment had passed, and she could never go back. No. Even if by some strange series of events - not that those were unusual for her at this point - she managed to reclaim the Presidency, she knew the people would remain on New Caprica, and she’d have to make the best of it.

In the meantime, she had the children. She wasn’t President anymore, but she was something better: a teacher. She would listen to her charges, instruct and guide them to her own image of a “better tomorrow.” And that future sure didn’t look like Baltarville.

She continued toward the marketplace. She counted her “Baltarbucks” to make sure she had enough for dinner and perhaps breakfast for tomorrow morning. There was no means of refrigeration in her tent, so that meant near-daily shopping. “Baltarbucks” were the President’s _solution_ to the economic problem. They were printed pieces of paper with numeric values in the corners and Baltar’s face in the center. Everyone received a certain number of Baltarbucks each week. Singles less than families. And those with jobs received more as an incentive to work.

It sounded okay in theory, but the execution...left something to be desired, much like their esteemed leader. In truth, Laura really didn’t like looking at his face every time she went to the market.

She approached the marketplace and picked out a vegetable, something that resembled a cornstalk, an apple for breakfast - she was quick to laugh slightly at the attendant’s teacher joke. The bread looked neither moldy nor stale, so she chose a loaf. With the apple butter and almond butter in her tent, the bread would do quite nicely while it lasted. She chose a small but whole roasted bird. She didn’t know much about the animal, but aside from the _plant_ she’d found by her lake, it was the best thing about this planet - her home for the foreseeable future. The eggs were pretty tasty as well, so she bought two for the next morning.

The cashier loaded her bag and accepted her Baltarbucks. “You’re just in time,” she said. “We’ll be closing in about ten minutes.”

Laura nodded. “Yes, I was forewarned.”

The cashier smiled. “Good.” She handed Laura the bag. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Madame President.”

Laura smirked. “Just Laura or Ms. Roslin now.”

“Of course.”

The young woman would call her Madame President the next day, and the next, and likely every day until it were either reality or such an impossibility that there were no longer a reason to continue. There were others like her. It wasn’t much, but in truth, Laura enjoyed the consistency.

With her shopping bag in one hand and briefcase in the other, she walked to her tent in the center of Baltarville. It wasn’t much, but it had a nice proximity to the school tent. Maya and Isis were her neighbors on one side, Tory on the other. Galen and Cally Tyrol lived across the row a bit, and Kara and Sam a few tents down from them. At the very least, it was nice to be surrounded by familiar faces, and ones who despised their current President nearly as much as she did. When she entered the heart of Baltarville, Kara, Sam, and his friends from the resistance were playing pyramid. From what she could tell, Kara was showing the professionals a thing or two. Laura grinned at that. According to the story, Kara had had a shot at the pros once - which was completely believable - but had blown out her knee before she could be recruited.

Selfishly, Laura was glad for that, as it had led Kara to the Colonial Fleet, to _Galactica_ , where she could protect the remnants of humanity in her viper. Laura had been thinking a lot about choices of late. Hers and others’. So many decisions - good and bad - had gotten them to this point, to this planet. She had no idea what would be in store for them, but she couldn’t shake the feeling it would be bad for everyone, and she was glad to be in proximity of people with military backgrounds or who were otherwise able to fight cylons - and other enemies.

Kara scored a point and gave a quick wave to Laura, and Laura smiled. Kara got back in the game, and Laura turned to continue to her tent. The bags were getting heavy. From behind her, she heard Sam call time-out, and he rushed over. “Let me help with something, Madame President.”

She let out a little laugh. “Samuel T. Anders, how many times have I said to call me Laura?!”

He chuckled. “Maybe I do it just for that reaction.”

She huffed, but he didn’t stop grinning. She shoved her briefcase against his chest, and he caught it easily. He followed her to her tent, Kara and their friends shouting ‘teacher’s pet’ in his direction. They both laughed at that.

They entered her tent. She pointed to the spot next to her makeshift desk. “Right there is fine, Sam. Thanks.”

He complied, and she pat his shoulder on his way out. “Get back to your game.”

“Yes, ma’am. Have a good night, Madame President.”

Her laughter followed him out. She set about fixing dinner - unloading her bag and digging out her pot and warming plate. She shucked the corn-like vegetable and placed it in the pot, turned on the warming plate, and placed the pot on it. She poured some pre-boiled bottled water into the pot. The bird was still warm enough, and she knew from experience it still tasted okay at room temperature.

She graded to take advantage of the time she had to wait for the “corn” to cook. She grabbed the book Tory’d found for her - _Blood Runs at Midnight_. She had rolled her eyes at the title but had been grateful for another book - one of the few available that wasn’t from Bill’s collection. She didn’t imagine he’d read it, so it was something she could gift to him sometime.

She checked the corn. It was cooked enough, so she removed it from the heat and grabbed her plate and utensils. The game bird, vegetable, and bread with almond butter made for an okay meal. Actually, it was better than some of the dinners she’d eaten on _Colonial One_ , especially during the last leg of her illness. In truth, she couldn’t remember most of what she’d eaten since the attacks, and she was sure many days she wouldn’t have eaten at all if Billy hadn’t been there to remind her.

 _Billy_. Her heart still hurt, her stomach tightening, when she thought of him. What would he think of this place? Of what she’d nearly done? Would he have wanted her to go through with it - even if it did go against his sensibilities? Would the writing on the wall have been enough to cause him to abandon his principles as they had been enough for her to nearly forget hers? Would he have been broken somehow after Dee’s rejection? She doubted that. The kid had had a way of bouncing back from just about anything. She glanced over at her picture of the two of them. A small smile formed as it always did when she looked at it. She remembered the occasion for the picture fondly.

A fleet photographer had been following Laura and her staff for an expose of the daily life of a public servant. Laura had resisted at first, but Billy had convinced her it would be good for PR. _“Besides, your hair looks amazing. I think it’s a good day for this.”_

_She smirked. “I think, perhaps, you’re learning how to talk to women.”_

_He grinned. “I learned from the best, Madame President.”_

The photoshoot had gone very well, and Laura had still been able to work, so she’d forgotten about the photographer’s presence for the most part. At the end of the shoot, he’d asked for a picture of Laura and Billy. He’d winked at Laura and said that one would be for Madame President’s desk. She’d grinned, and she and Billy had posed at her desk.

The following week, the picture had showed up, framed and gift-wrapped, with a lovely thank you note attached. She still had the note somewhere.

Her dinner finished, she cleaned up quickly and settled into her cot with her book. She read a few chapters before falling asleep.

/////////////////////////////////////

Maya placed the last of the slates on the shelf, and looked up, letting out a little shriek of surprise before recovering. “Mr. Vice President, how are you?”

Tom smiled at Laura’s young helper, yet another staunch supporter of the former President. “I’m fine, thanks.” He looked around the school tent. “I’m actually looking for your boss.”

Maya nodded slightly. “She’s just putting Isis down for a nap.” She grinned. “We take turns. Laura’s really great with her. She would have made a wonderful mother. Well, I guess she kind of is.”

Tom nodded. Yes, Laura was a mother hen to the fleet. That was the difference between her and Baltar. One of many.

She fidgeted a bit, unsure of what to say. “She’ll be back soon, if you…”

Tom gestured to the chair in front of Laura’s desk. “I’ll just wait. You can pretend I’m not here.”

He went to the desk and took his seat. He could hear Maya moving about behind him. Teaching seemed like such an active profession, not unlike politics. Laura and Maya had done well with the school, considering their lack of supplies and the dearth of political support. Baltar had stood in front of the tent once, saying something about the future, before rushing off to the next location for another photo op. Laura had made the school what it was through sheer will.

He had to give her credit. He had figured after the...sudden reversal, she would have needed time to lick her wounds, which he supposed she had, but the day after Baltar had been sworn in, Laura had requested an audience with the new President. Tom’d had a fleeting image of Laura murdering the President. She didn’t much like guns, but with a knife, she could have been every bit like a Tauron Guatrau - prison had provided quite the education. Of course, Laura had perfected an even more deadly skill - killing her enemies with kindness. She’d opened up by congratulating Baltar, offering her hand for him to shake. Baltar had been smart enough to appear gracious. Then Laura had smiled wide and said, “You must be anxious to get started.”

Baltar had groveled about how she had laid great groundwork for him to build from. Laura’s smile had grown, if that were possible. “About that, what are your thoughts on a school?”

And so it had begun. Laura Roslin was entirely responsible for the education system on New Caprica, and she’d been completely willing to let Baltar have the credit for it. Tom knew that she hadn’t cared about that because she had won. Baltar may have won the election and New Caprica, but Laura had won access to the future - to the children, to the people.

The shuffle of boots against the tattered carpet behind him indicated the subject of his thoughts had arrived. The shuffling stopped, presumably when Laura saw him sitting there. “Maya,” she said. Confusion, curiosity, and apprehension were each present in her tone.

Tom could hear the soothing smile in Maya’s voice. “Do you want me to head home for a bit?”

“Yes, stay with Isis.” A sigh. “I’m worried she’s getting sick in this weather.”

Footsteps. Maya’s as she made for the exit. “Between the two of us, she’ll be fine.” There was such...gratitude in the young woman’s tone. Love even. “We’ll be back in time for the evening session.”

The evening session. Laura’s “night school” program for parents and adults because there were no colleges or universities in existence and plenty of adults looking to further their skills and education. Laura and Maya held classes a few nights a week. Tom had forgotten one of them was that night.

“I’ll see you then,” Laura said.

Maya shuffled out of the tent, and Laura sighed and approached her desk. “What can I do for you, Mr. Vice President?”

“Is the child really getting sick?” He put up his hand at her...violated look. “I was in the room, not eavesdropping.”

“I don’t know. Hope not. The children are getting sick, though. Parents too. We had ten absences this week alone.”

“What about you? You sound--”

“I’m fine.” She smirked. “Another gift from that cure, it seems.”

“The cure you refuse to discuss.”

“I can’t discuss something that happened when I wasn’t cognizant.” She smiled sweetly. “But you’re welcome to ask Dr. Cottle about it.”

He huffed. “As if he’d tell me anything.”

She hmmed her satisfaction. He’d be satisfied too if he had an army of loyal followers. He’d had one true follower, and Meier was long gone.

“Have you eaten?”

She raised her brow.

“Dinner. I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept.”

“Hmm. You’d be surprised how many meals I’ve missed since the attacks.”

“Not really. I imagine you worked through dinner and long into the night most days.” She nodded. “But those burdens aren’t on your shoulders anymore.”

“Thanks to you.”

He nodded. “Yes, thanks to me and the voice of the people. And Adama’s...diligence.” Her grim expression broke: He’d gotten through. “How long do you have?”

“Two hours.”

He grinned. “Plenty of time.” He stood up. “Let’s go.”

She raised her brow, but stood anyway. Curiosity trumped apprehension. “Where?”

He winked. “Best place in Tent City.”

“That’s not saying much, Mr. Zarek.”

“Have I been demoted?”

She shrugged. “Old habits.”

He offered his arm to guide her. She slid her left arm around his right one. “You really can be a gentleman,” she said.

“How do you think I got where I am?”

“You don’t want me to answer that.”

He guided them out of the tent and toward his. Going by her intake of breath, she had a good idea of their destination, but she said nothing. At the very least, she wasn’t afraid of him.

They approached his tent. He said, “Here we are.”

She pulled her arm out of his grasp. “And what are we doing here, Mr. Zarek?”

He fought the urge to laugh. She’d willingly followed him but obviously wasn’t sure of his intentions. Of course, neither was he. Not entirely. The realization that she probably wouldn’t have eaten that night without his intervention spurred him to act. “I’m going to make you dinner, and then I’ll walk you back in time to teach New Caprica’s citizens.”

Her upper lip quaked as she considered. “You have enough for two?”

“Being the Vice President does have a few perks.”

She snorted. “I’m sure.”

He stepped inside his tent, and she followed him, slowly, taking in everything. “Maybe not so many perks,” she said.

“About the same as yours.”

“When I was…”

He nodded. “I know you didn’t take as many as you could have.”

She shrugged. “I was too busy most of the time, anyway.”

“I won’t try to understand what you had to go through--”

“Good. You couldn’t.” She sighed. “No one could.”

“Not even Adama?”

She shook her head. “He tried. Came close. But no. He can’t, not completely.”

“He doesn’t know that, I guess.”

“No. Probably not.”

Something else he could use. “Make yourself at home.”

He gestured to the armchair in what could pass for a living room. She moved to sit down, letting out a shiver. “And I thought it was cold in space,” she said.

“I never entirely understood why you joined us down here.”

She nodded. “I’m not sure myself most days.”

He turned on the space heater and moved to the eating area. “It’s not much, Laura, but I can make a passable meal for us.” He snorted. “It’ll at least surpass what I ate during my incarceration.”

She laughed. “I thought you were gonna say it was better than what we ate up there.”

He chuckled. “That too.”

He went to work, and Laura sat. It wasn’t exactly an awkward silence, but he hadn’t entertained anyone who didn’t want something from him in a long time. It was refreshing.

“You must think me terribly rude,” she said.

He looked up from the pot he was stirring. “What makes you say that?”

“I’m not helping or talking.”

“I didn’t ask for help. And gods, Laura, could you imagine the two of us working in this tight space?” Actually, that was a surprisingly pleasant image.

Perhaps not for her, as she shuddered. “Yes. That’s...true.”

“And after spending a day listening to the people - and President Baltar - it’s nice to have some quiet.”

She smiled. “I bet.”

“I think you’ll find we’re more alike than you imagine.”

“I’m beginning to see that, yes. That smells great, by the way.”

He grinned. “I call it the Zarek Special. Just don’t ask what’s in it.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.”

He grabbed two bowls and scooped the stew into them. He handed Laura the larger portion. Her eyes widened, but she said nothing. He gave a little shrug. “You don’t eat enough.”

“Now you’re starting to sound like Billy.”

Her eyes lost some of their luster after she said that.

“I’m sorry, Laura.”

She hmmed. “Me too.”

He hadn’t cared for the kid at the time. The boy had been too protective of his mother and too incorruptible, which should have been endearing for a public servant, especially one so close to the center of power, but he’d mostly just blocked Tom’s progress. However, after Billy had died, when Tory had taken over Billy’s duties, he’d realized how good he’d had it before. The young woman had been every bit as shrewd as her boss, and she seemed to have a particular dislike for him, a fact that hadn’t changed at all since the election and Laura’s tumble from power.

She dug into the stew, lifted the spoon to her mouth, chewed and swallowed. Then she made one of her little hums. “That’s really good.”

He bowed his head slightly. “Glad you like it.”

Satisfied she was eating, he attacked his own stew. They didn’t speak as they ate, but the sound of the spoon scraping the bottom of Laura’s bowl indicated she had been hungry - for far too long - and that she’d liked his offering. He didn’t know why, but he swelled with pride over that. And of course, having fed her would further his agenda.

She placed the empty bowl daintily on the floor in front of her. Tom picked it up and put their dishes in the basin. He would clean them in the morning.

“Thank you for dinner, Tom.” She smiled shyly, which almost made him forget whom she was and what she was capable of. “I probably would have eaten very late, if at all.”

“I enjoyed the company,” he heard himself say. “It’s...nice.”

She raised a brow. “Nice?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

She gave her placating smile. “Nothing. It’s just not what I’d expect to hear.”

“I don’t have to _try_ with you. I guess that’s how I mean it. It’s...refreshing.”

She hmmed. “I’m sure you’re _trying_. Toward what end, I don’t know, but I don’t think you can stop. You’re right that you don’t have to, though.” She glanced at her wristwatch. “I should go.”

He stood up and straightened his shirt, brushed off his pants. “I’ll walk you back.”

She stood and smirked. “Ever the gentleman.”

He had been at one time, in his youth, before his trial and sentencing. His newfound power and aspirations necessitated he become one again. But it was Laura who seemed to bring it out of him the most. “Maybe it’s a testament to you, your power.”

She said nothing, but she was considering, as always. He offered his arm, and she took it.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////

She didn’t know what his angle was, but surely he had one. She’d be disappointed if he didn’t, actually. There was little point in having an inept rival; even if it would make her life a bit easier, it would also make it less interesting.

“You’re quiet,” he said, still holding her arm as they walked.

She hmmed. “I’m always quiet.”

Even without looking, she could tell he didn’t believe it. What did he know about her? “You prefer to listen, I guess.”

“Usually, yes.” She smirked, knowing she could goad him. “It’s amazing what you can learn that way.”

He grinned. “I’m a good listener too.” He leaned forward, conspiratorially. “They used to call me ‘Brother’ in prison because I listened to everyone.”

“I can’t really see you as a priest.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think in another life, I’d have been good at it.” He snorted. “I couldn’t be worse than that cylon, anyway.”

She cringed. “Don’t remind me. I sought his guidance during the election.” She snorted. “I wonder if that’s why I lost.”

He shook his head slightly. “Perhaps putting your faith in the wrong things was the problem.”

“I’m not in the mood to debate my beliefs with you.”

“Does it remind you too much of Adama?”

“You’re nothing like him.”

“Thank you.”

Of course he would take that as a compliment. And although that wasn’t how she’d meant it, maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing they were so different. She reflected on that as they walked.

They stopped in front of the school tent. “Here we are,” he said. “Go teach New Caprica’s finest.”

He had one of those personalities that she couldn’t tell whether he was serious or jesting sometimes, but she chose to assume he was sincere. The men and women in her classroom each week wanted to better themselves, and they were hopeful about their future for the first time since the attacks. She was proud of them. That pride made her smile. “I will. Goodnight, Tom.”

She entered the tent without waiting for his goodbye. _Good. Give him something to think about_.

She had just enough time to get in and make last-minute preparations for her lesson. This group was primarily interested in learning enough to help their children with their homework.

Some of them had taken her aside after the first week of school, asking a variation of “What are you teaching my children?”

She’d assured them she was teaching them what was considered the former standard of the Colonies.

 _“That’s just it,”_ one parent had said. _“I wasn’t taught to those standards. I don’t know how to help my son.”_

It had begun with individual tutoring sessions, but that had quickly gotten out of control, and Laura’s time had stopped being hers. It had been Maya who’d suggested opening the school to adults, and Laura had known instantly that was a good idea and among the best things she could offer the citizens.

Teaching adults was a bit different from teaching children, but it was pretty similar to the press conferences and quorum meetings she’d run since the attacks - only, in this case, the people actually listened to her and valued what she said. It was nice for a change.

They’d start with the basics. Prior to the attacks, she’d read a disturbing statistic in the newspaper: 75% of adults couldn’t read and comprehend _The Scarlet Letter_. So they’d build up to that this year. She had been fortunate that Bill had a copy in his library, and he’d been willing to give it to her for the school.

She would read the third chapter to her class that night, and then they’d discuss what they’d read in the first three chapters. The discussions had been fun so far. They were lively, entertaining, and intellectual - maybe some of them had been unable to read it before, but they understood it, and enjoyed both the story and the dissections of the story that followed. Laura hadn’t spoken about literature so much since her final year in graduate school, and she’d missed it.

By the end of the year, she was hoping they’d get more into career planning as they continued adjusting to the new environment. In Laura’s spare time, she’d begun assembling a group of experts willing to share the tricks and knowledge of their trades. There simply weren’t enough doctors, nurses, child-care providers around, not to mention plumbers, iron workers, and other construction workers. It would be up to the ones who remained to train future workers. And her school would be part of that. _She_ would be a part of that.

She sat at her desk and opened the book, skimming through the chapter a bit to jog her memory. She made notes of questions to ask and themes to address for when the discussion lagged.

Maya and Isis entered the tent with Tory close behind. Maya placed Isis in the bassinet by their shared desk. Then she glanced up at Laura. “I saw you walking here with the Vice President.”

There was no judgement or even light teasing in Maya’s voice. The same couldn’t be said for Tory when she said, “And I saw you heading toward his tent.”

Laura looked from Maya to Tory, two such very different women, both of whom were her friends and protectors - in some ways. She leveled her gaze at Tory. “Was there a question?”

“Why?”

Laura shrugged. “He offered me dinner.” She smirked. “And it isn’t exactly a bad thing to have the Vice President’s ear.”

“You’re the rightful President, Laura,” Tory said, her fists clenched at her sides. “He should be clamoring for your ear.”

Laura shook her head. “I’m not the rightful President. I lost. Fairly.” She forced that last word out. “But even so, it’s my ear he wants more than Baltar’s.” She gave a little grin. “Surely, that must count for something.”

Tory sighed but unclenched her fists. Another time, Laura would be glad for her pit bull former aide, but at that moment, the gesture wasn’t necessary. Maya, on the other hand, looked oddly...pleased. “I think it counts for a lot, Laura.” She got a far away look. “And he seems...nice. A gentleman.” She turned to Tory. “I know about his past, but people can change.” She turned back to Laura. “Can’t they?”

“I’m hesitant to believe anyone can change _that_ much, but I’m willing to give him - and everyone - the benefit of the doubt.” She leveled an even gaze at Tory. “And I can see the _merits_ of our friendly acquaintance.” She smiled at Maya. “Our students will be arriving soon. Ready?”

“Always, Laura.”

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

She was sitting at her desk, thumbing through _The Scarlet Letter_ , when she heard the rustling of the tent. She’d heard the difference enough not to repeat her mistake. It wasn’t Maya. Still, she remained focused on her book.

“A little light reading?” Tom asked as he approached the desk.

She looked up, closing the novel and placing it down in front of her. “What can I do for you, Mr. Vice President?”

He gave a frown that was more like a smirk, if that were possible. “I thought we were past that, Laura.”

“Mr. Zarek?”

He chuckled. “Now you’re just being mean.”

“You just bring it out of me, I guess, _Tom_.”

“I love that you admit I have some power over you.”

She hmmed. Of course he would like that.

“Sometimes I feel like Hester,” he said.

She raised a brow. “What does that make me? Chillingworth?”

He snorted. “You’re hardly a Chillingworth. Although I think you could give him a run for his cubits if you were angry and motivated enough.”

She shook her head. “I don’t have it in me to be motivated by revenge like that.” She smirked. “That’s what airlocks are for.”

“Hawthorne’s characters are too...flat.” He leaned forward a bit. “In truth, you remind me a bit of Hester too.”

“Oh?”

“Not in the...obvious ways, but the other traits. Your strength. Especially now.”

Her lips twitched, but she found a barb at the last second. “If things were different, I wouldn’t need to be strong.”

He nodded. “You’d need to be a strong President, wouldn’t you?”

“Oh, yes, Tom. I wouldn’t kowtow so easily.”

“Having seen the alternative, I wouldn’t want you to.”

She snorted. “I’ll bet. Now scoot, unless you want to join our discussion tonight.”

She shouldn’t have said that. His eyes widened. “May I? I’d love to watch a master at work.”

She shrugged. “Suit yourself. You’ll miss dinner.”

He grinned. “I’ll just have to eat with you, after.”

Oh, no. She couldn’t win with him. It was worse than during the elections. “That sounds...fine.” She pointed to one of the chairs near the back of the tent. “Why don’t you choose your seat, and I’ll get back to my preparations.”

He stood up, muttering something about mean teachers. Then he winked at her. “Like you couldn’t teach this class in your sleep.”

Another compliment. What was he playing at?

He complied with her wishes and took his seat near the back, affecting the expression of an eager student. She wondered what he’d been like in school. Probably an obnoxious know-it-all who didn’t let his teachers get a word in edgewise. That wouldn’t be the case in her classroom tonight.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

He’d been watching her work a room since the day they’d met, but this was different. She was unlike any teacher he’d ever had. She was more interested in what her students had to say than in lecturing. She valued everyone’s opinions and facilitated the conversation to keep it fresh and lively. He would never think of the book the same way.

The class ended, and Tom hadn’t checked his watch once. Why couldn’t the quorum meetings be like that?

He lingered in the back as Laura said goodnight to everyone. When the students left, Maya looked reluctant to leave, and Tory shot Tom an incredulous look. Laura picked up the child, and nuzzled her nose against the baby’s stomach, causing delighted giggles. Maya laughed and ran toward them. “I should get home and feed her, I guess.”

Laura nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be right behind you. I swear.” She kissed Maya’s cheek.

Tory said good night to her boss and slunk out of the tent, Maya and the child close behind. Laura shook her head and glanced over at him. “You must be getting bored.”

“Not at all. I quite enjoyed that.”

“If you say so.” Her stomach rumbled.

“You didn’t eat today, did you?”

She shrugged. “I guess not.”

He stood from the desk set. “Let’s go.”

“We’re not going to your tent again.”

He sighed. “Fine. We’ll go to yours.”

She rolled her eyes, clearly thinking that was an even worse idea, considering her neighbors. But she acquiesced. “I don’t have much. I didn’t make it to the market.”

“We’ll make do.”

She gathered her bag and went to the flap. “Shall we?”

He followed her out and offered to carry her bag. She made him work for it like everything else in their association, but she did hand it over, especially after his quip that he wouldn’t take off with it. She smacked his arm. “That’s not...fine, here,” she said as she threw the bag at him.

He caught it and held it against his chest before slipping the strap around his arm. “It’s frakkin’ heavy.” He chuckled. “That’s what I get for being a gentleman.”

“If you say so.”

Walking around tent city in the dark was quite an undertaking. There weren’t many lights set up, especially farther away from town square. He knew Laura was tough, not to mention beloved among the citizens, but he didn’t like the idea of her walking alone. Of course, she would say he was the only threat against her safety. But she wouldn’t really believe that. And he’d only made the one attempt. Having failed that, he’d accepted defeat and taken other routes. Now, he was glad he’d failed.

They walked in silence, and it was obvious she knew the route very well, as she weaved through the darkness. A few citizens were out, enjoying the relatively clear night, he supposed. The stars were bright that night. He wasn’t one to stargaze, but he greatly preferred to look up at them rather than travel among them. “It’s a nice night,” he said.

“It is.”

She sounded wistful.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She sighed. “We shouldn’t be here. All the _advancements_ and improvements won’t matter.”

“You think they’ll come back?”

“Either that or we’ll run ourselves into the ground.”

If the cylons came back, they were frakked. That much was obvious. The people were too scattered for even the great Adama to protect. The ships’ engines wouldn’t start easily after months of being idle. And Baltar refused to listen to reason. “Why do you bother, then?”

She snorted. “Why do you?”

He searched for her eyes in the dark. He couldn’t find them. “I asked you first.” At her silence, he said, “Fine. I guess I want to believe in the system, that this place can work. I want there to be hope, faith.”

“And my answer is similar. Only...I want to be the change in the system. I want to be part of what makes it work. I want to spread hope, faith.”

“The leader till the end.”

She said nothing to that, and they walked on, until she stopped in front of a tent. “This is me.”

///////////////////////////////////////////////

She opened the flap and ushered him inside. She lit her lantern and offered him a seat. “It’s not much, but it’s...mine.”

He looked around from his seat. “It’s nice, Laura. Somehow, you made this place into a home.”

She sighed. “It’s not as though we’ll have proper housing anytime soon.”

“Believe me, we’re doing our best.”

“You’re doing your best, you mean. And actually, I do. Believe that I mean.”

He placed his hand over his heart. “I’m touched, really.”

She rolled her eyes before bending to look at her meager food supply. There were a few eggs in her basket and what remained of her still-fresh loaf. “Eggs and bread?”

He met her eyes. “That’s your breakfast, isn’t it?”

She shrugged. “I have some fruit.” She smirked. “I’ll be fine. It isn’t like I eat much.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

She looked at him hard. “What do you mean?”

“You’re a giver.”

She grinned. “This is true.”

He said nothing more, so she turned on the hot-plate and placed her pan on it. Then she cracked the eggs. “Like your yolk broken or intact?”

He liked them broken, which was good, since it would be tough to maneuver sans butter or grease. She let the eggs cook as she set their dishes. When they were finished, she scraped them out of the pan as neatly as she could. “I’m afraid I’m not the best cook.”

He grinned. “It’s nice to see you aren’t perfect.”

She snorted. “I didn’t realize you thought I was.”

“You’re not, but you have to admit, you don’t let many flaws show.”

She spread some almond butter on his bread and placed it on his plate, handing it to him. Then she picked hers up and took a seat across from him. “If I let them show, people like you would’ve tried to run me out of office months before the end of the term.”

He took a bite of his egg, chewed and swallowed. He looked reasonably content, so she began eating. “You mean like Adama did?” he asked after a few bites.

She swallowed the bite of bread and rolled her eyes. He did have a point, which only served to annoy her further. “That was different.”

“Because he _forgave_ you? How magnanimous of him.”

She laughed. “One day, when you both are annoying me, I think I’d delight in watching you in the ring.”

“Oh, I doubt I could best the great Adama, and I wouldn’t want to try.”

“Oh, no?” She gazed at him, curious. She really didn’t know much about him, except what was part of public record. For all he liked to speak - and seemed in love with his own voice, although not to the extent Baltar was - he spoke little about himself.

“Boxing’s not for me.”

“Is it the violence?”

He shook his head. “Not in itself, but the style of it. I should add it was very popular in prison, and the guards would place bets.” He looked away. “I benefitted from their blood sport, but I never fought.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that, so she didn’t. Her dinner became more interesting than it had ever been, and he returned his focus to his own plate.

They finished eating, and Laura collected their dishes.

Tom stood. “I should let you go to sleep. Morning comes early.”

“It does.”

“Thanks for dinner - and the company.”

She walked him to the tent flap. He leaned in, and she moved her head to meet him. They ended up in some kiss limbo between her cheek and her mouth. She giggled at their lack of _finesse_. And he chuckled. “I have to try again.”

He caught her mouth that time, in a chaste kiss, not unlike the one she’d shared with Bill. But these circumstances were very different. This was a hello instead of a goodbye. She stroked his face. “Goodnight, Tom. See you tomorrow?” She smirked. “I’m sure you can pick my brains about something.”

He grinned. “I’ll be there. Be prepared, Laura.” He met her eyes. “Tory doesn’t like me much.”

She laughed. “She doesn’t like anyone. Except me and Maya, it seems.”

He ran his hand through her hair. Then he was gone. Obviously not one to embarrass himself over a long goodbye. She ran her finger along her mouth. She’d just have to think of other ways to get to him.


End file.
